


With Equal Steps

by risquetendencies



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: 2nd Year Setting, Alternate Universe - Canon, Eventual Fluff, Getting Together, Insecurities, M/M, Rakuzan Manager Furihata, Realizing Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-09 01:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5519813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risquetendencies/pseuds/risquetendencies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Furihata is the manager of a championship team who can’t play basketball to save his life. And while he’s coming to terms with that, he finds himself increasingly caught up in their captain’s inner struggles and increasingly watching the back of someone whom he cannot hope to walk side by side with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Equal Steps

"Has everyone cleared out of the locker rooms already?"

"Yeah, they're gone. Showers turned off and so are the lights. You really don't mind putting the rest of the equipment away, Furihata?"

Kouki shook his head, confirming his willingness. His fellow manager stared him down as if to gauge his sincerity, then broke into an easy-going grin. "Hey thanks man. My girlfriend's waiting for me, guess she won't have to wait much longer if you're okay doing this."

"No, it's fine. I don't think there's too much to do. There were more running drills than shooting ones today, so most of the balls are still locked up."

"Yeah, no doubt. Glad I don't have to do what they do. The captain is crazy! Or maybe he wants them to run off the holiday calories before they eat them, hard to say. Anyway, thanks, and I'm gonna get going. See you after break!"

Seconding the wave flashed his way, he waited until his classmate turned the corner before jettisoning the tension caged within him in the space of a single, relieved exhale.

Once he was sure he was fully alone, Kouki darted back inside the gym, gingerly shutting the door until only the faintest sliver of space remained between it and the frame. From there, he fiddled with the light switches, turning the brightest few off in favor of a dimmer lighting scheme. The glare from the fluorescent bulbs would disrupt his concentration and his nerves. Besides, the less obvious from the outside it was that someone was still occupying the building after hours, the better. 

Though would anyone really be sticking around right before the break kicked off? Other than him, that was. Kouki was fairly certain he was the only person with that desire.

He couldn't help it though. It was tranquil here without the rest of the team around, a gargantuan but somehow comforting practice space for him to while away a couple of hours. There were a few outdoor courts near where he lived, and even one in the gym down the road from his house, but he preferred the school's by far.

It wasn't often that he got to use it, so he treasured what stolen sessions he could arrange.

During the semester the regular practices ran into the later evening, and some of the more dedicated players hung behind to hone their skills individually. Leaving him no choice but waiting until after they left and staying up, or hoping for the rare occasion practice was cancelled or the gym otherwise left uninhabited. Fooling around on his own while the players were present wasn't an option. He wasn't trying to usurp any of their places, never mind his lack of capability to do so.

Pair a large student population and seemingly boundless athletic talent and there just wasn't room for him to be useful.

Overall, his school life was satisfactory. The academics here were superb; they had to be when a good chunk of the student body were spawned from the loins of C.E.O's, politicians, and other important or wealthy figures. He felt challenged in his classes and Kouki liked that. He had classmates he got along with, and a circle of casual buddies. He wasn't being bullied, failing any subjects, or struggling. But when he spun around to thinking about clubs, that was where the problem lay.

Why did it have to be Rakuzan?

If it had been a  _normal_ school, maybe he could have bit the bullet and tried out for the team like he'd been hoping to when he entered high school. But his father's promotion had uprooted the family to Kyoto, and delivered him to the doorstep of the basketball dynasty that had eclipsed all other competition to secure the championship for years on end.

Needless to say, Kouki hadn't bothered dreaming about exhausting himself just so he could be relegated to the fourth or fifth string, members in name but never to set foot in an actual game. It was impossible, and he was somewhere between a realist and a pessimist. He knew his chances were nil.

Being a manager for the team was obtainable, and though he hadn't been excited about it at first, it was his compromise with himself. He could see all the basketball he wanted, he could help the team with the mundane errands, water fetching, or wound care that, while not usually lauded, was essential to running a smooth ship.

Kouki propped up the lid of the cart that held the spare balls and chose one from the heap. Spinning it in his hands, he did a test dribble, nodding wordlessly at the resounding bounce it did off the hardwood floors. He then carried it onto the center of the court, thinking about what he wanted to try to do. He didn't think he'd spend too much time here tonight - his brother was visiting from university and would pitch a fit if his 'sweet baby brother' wasn't there to greet him.

Furihata rolled his eyes good-naturedly. His brother was a colossal idiot, but he wouldn't trade him for anyone else. He was one of the few people who made him feel necessary. 

Scouting the angle between him and the hoop, the brunet tried to guess how much force he'd have to put in to make his shot reach. 

Raising his hands, his wrist stretched back as he gave the ball an angle, and then sprung forward, propelling it toward the target. It collided with the outside of the rim, creating a ruckus before it sunk to the floor. Furihata's lips curved downward. Okay, so maybe that one was his warm-up shot. He'd get it eventually. Sometimes it took a few to get the hang of it.

He trotted over to where the basketball had rolled, retrieving it before marching back to the designated line.  

His second shot, which he knew was doomed from the moment the ball left his palm, smacked the rim from a different side and ultimately met the same demise. The third flew high enough to tap the backboard, but struck it hard enough to send it violently careening away from the force of impact. His fourth shot, launched with disappointment on the brain, didn't even reach the hoop. 

Despondent, Kouki sighed and took a breather, holding the ball still as he tried to reconcile with the string of failures. It wasn't a big deal in the end. He was just fooling around, and he wasn't losing against anyone when he was playing by himself. There was a reason he'd become a manager, and that gave him the freedom of not having to make these baskets. 

Watching from his vantage during games gave him a different opinion. The Rakuzan starters were in a league of their own, and they made each score look disturbingly easy, even when it was hard-fought or by the skin of their teeth. Which wasn't often, granted, but certain teams could draw out their full effort and make them work for that win. But regardless, Kouki couldn't help but have the dangerous thought that a shot looked simple when it flew from one of their hands, and that maybe, just maybe, he could do it too if he copied their stance.

The reality was, either copying moves didn't work or he was incapable of doing it period. Unfortunately for his pride, Kouki knew that copying was a viable strategy - one of the stray games the team had fought against a school in Kanagawa had proved that definitively.

Skill, that was what it came down to, and it was what he lacked. Luckily he had found a better niche in doing what he was now.

It wasn't because he wasn't talented, he assured himself. Rather, he knew what he was capable of, and in order to preserve enjoying something he loved, he put himself at a distance from it. Sometimes the view was better from the sidelines, where he could watch all the action and not want to give up on himself because he couldn't be a useful part of it. Being a manager held its own rewards, and it wasn't like he didn't enjoy that role. He truly did the more he'd gone along doing it.

Strictly speaking, the team would fall apart if there was no one there to deal with the small details. At least at first. Maybe they'd figure it out after a while of having no one to do it for them, but it would be disastrous in the beginning. If no one brought and filled the water bottles or provided snacks to replenish their stamina, they'd be running on empty. If no one was there to tape an ankle or ice a sprain, they'd probably go right on playing on with an untreated injury; that was how simple-minded some of them could be in the midst of a game.

His responsibilities lay with the regular members. Each rank from them on down to the lowest string had a manager assigned to them as a group, and apparently he'd shined enough to be allocated to the top brass. Which was routinely terrible for his inferiority complex, but an amazing opportunity to be in the thick of the action.

Apart from that, he'd come to enjoy them as people too, in so much as they interacted. They were a strange bunch, but their teamwork didn't suffer in the least - they were like a family unit on and off the court. And him, an amused bystander.

Letting the thoughts fade out, Kouki turned his attention to the ball in his hands. An additional musing caught up with him, and he vaguely nodded.

Perhaps that was part of it. The fun and companionship that sports or being part of a group generated. It would be nice to have that in his life.

Moving to Kyoto wasn't a nightmare, but he'd left behind whatever he'd built for himself in middle school and started fresh. New friends and new surroundings meant feeling like he'd missed the boat on a lot of things, since the majority of people here had been there for years, already forming their bonds. Hard as he tried, he couldn't cultivate that in a rush to fit in.

Dribbling in place, he eyed the hoop once more and then moved into position. Arms up, bent at the elbow, and feet slightly apart.

His breath sailed through his lips, echoing calmly into the hollowness of the empty gym. Hazel eyes flickered over the placement of his fingers one last time, then rose to chart the trajectory. Pulling back, he built up and then released, sending the ball skyward. It flew smoothly toward the hoop and then alighted, swirling around the rim twice before sinking in.

Kouki smiled, for the first time feeling the warmth of his face from running back and forth to retrieve the ball. He'd finally made one that counted.

Granted it was more tries than he would have hoped to need, but he'd accept the small victory. He merely wished that it could silence the voice in the back of his consciousness that warned him not to feel too comfortable. After all, even the worst player was bound to make a shot sometime. He couldn't guarantee being able to replicate that basket, a fact that underscored his lack of talent. Truly, he was in the right place. Even if he would have loved to play on the team, this position was better-suited.

' _Are you certain of that_?'

Furihata's nose wrinkled at the sudden recollection. What in the world?

Stopping where he stood, he raked through his memories more, trying to coax the rest of the vision to the forefront. He was acutely aware of the identity of the speaker, but what about the rest?

Thoughts strung like pearls blitzed down his nerves, and gradually he was able to glimpse the conversation. It was one of the many he'd been party to during team practices, something he'd observed while overlooking the drills. One of the players who rotated through the starting line had been aggravated. Something about a lack of progress with a trick shot. Upon expressing his frustration and declaring he was never going to get it, their captain had approached him, a stern look ruling his normally impassive features.

 _"Are you certain of that_? _"_

_The player had glanced at him with confused eyes, taken aback that he was being confronted. But under the weight of such a stare, he had to bow. Nodding in a half-hearted way, he replied, "Yeah. I'm not getting anywhere. I haven't gotten anywhere. I haven't come close."_

_Crimson orbs had scanned him in return, flickering with some buried thought. The Rakuzan captain had taken in the player's rigid stance, his almost rebellious silence that challenged him to refute his declaration. Any traditional leader probably would have concurred, accepted that his was his level of comfort, and moved on. After all, change couldn't be forced._

_Akashi Seijuro wasn't a typical captain, however._

_"Setting limits for yourself will hinder you from advancing." His focus shifted from the one boy to the others watching the spectacle, addressing every one of them seamlessly. "That goes for anyone. Create your own obstacle and that is the end of the line. If that's all you believe you are capable of, you'll soon prove yourself correct. Everyone has a higher plain they can reach with continued effort and perseverance. Don't put a stopper on your potential when you could be the one to ensure it is realized."_

Like he had been that day, Kouki remained conflicted.

Akashi's speech was encouraging, the sort of thing he longed to believe in. At the same time, it didn't budge his frame of mind any. Not everyone had hidden skills to unlock. That wasn't possible, or else everyone would follow his advice and work toward that goal. But reality dictated that some people were more apt at certain activities than others.

Not everyone could be the best, or else there wouldn't be standards like "the best" to begin with. Kouki knew he had limits, and so the words had done little but sour his regret that there was a wall in front of him. A limit that wasn't far off from where he'd already reached with his meager attempts at moving forward.

His fingers clenched into fists, tightening for a moment until he thought better of it and let them fall limp at his sides.

It was useless harboring dreams like the one that had presented itself to him. Just because he was getting quicker about making a successful score didn't mean he was on his way to becoming a prodigy. Looking to his own team as an example, Hayama's lightning dribble and animal instincts, Nebuya's blocking skills and powerful dunks, Mibuchi's array of breathtaking shots, Akashi's...  everything... they were special in their uniqueness. They couldn't be replicated. He on the other hand, had nothing special about him to propel him past the limits normal people were governed by.

A creak rent the air, tugging him from his musings. Kouki glanced around, but concluded after a spell that he was alone.

Shaking his head to clear it, he concluded it was a sign that it was time to leave. He'd had his fun, but with no pressing goal to anchor him there longer, heading home was the best option.

No amount of secret practice was going to make him worthy of the captain's words.

 

* * *

 

"Furi, you're good at video games? You play them right, even though you don't play basketball?"

Fresh back from the long weekend, his brain wasn't functioning on all cylinders yet, and so the barrage of questions being thrown his way didn't immediately register. Hayama's non-linear way of thinking typically had this effect on him, but after a respite from it, he was rustier than usual. And torn between wondering how the subject originated or if he should be offended by the latter statement. 

"Uh, sometimes?" he offered up. "My brother plays them more often though," he mumbled as an afterthought, but it got overshadowed by the next words to leave the small forward's lips.

"How do I win at them? I need to get really good, and it needs to happen fast."

Kouki unabashedly blinked at him.

It might have been later afternoon, after he'd staggered through a full day of classes already, but as far as he was concerned, he was as hazy as in early morning when it came to getting back to the team's grind. It hadn't been that long of a time off, but even so, he wasn't prepared for this onslaught. Or for the fact that practice hadn't even officially started yet, and Hayama was present and accounted for. And being needy. It was far too early for needy. And suspiciously early for Hayama to be in the gym at all. 

Furihata's eyes slotted over to the wall clock as if confirming that, and then he turned back to the blond looming over him expectantly.

"Why do you want to get good at video games, Hayama-senpai?" he inquired, figuring that maybe if he had a basis for the request it might give him some idea of how to respond.

And in the meantime, well, he still had things to do.

He took off toward the carts to one sideline, grabbing an armful of orange cones. Hayama trailed him, expression morphing each time Furihata glanced back like some sort of volatile slideshow. The elder seemed not to know how to quantify his motivation, or perhaps he was so far ahead of his own thoughts with his desires that he wasn't sure why he wanted to, either. Which frankly, would be underwhelmingly normal for Hayama. His mind and body were often out of sync, one outpacing the other as he hurtled through daily life.

Spreading the cones out to form a couple of lanes on the court, Kouki grew absorbed with his work to a point that he hardly noticed the spastic motions of the male behind him. He tried his best to place them at an equal distance apart, made some small adjustments, and eventually threw in the towel. He was one person, if he'd done it wrong he wasn't going to pick up on that by himself. He could always fix them if they weren't going to work for what the captain and coach had in mind for today.

"Furiiii-" 

Swiveling at the call, Kouki met the other's determined countenance with an earnest look. 

"I want to impress Miyaji-san! Then maybe he'll say he loves me like he did with that one guy when they won that big tournament thing online and it'll be really cool like we could play together maybe and team up and kick other guys' asses and he'll think I'm awesome and then-" Hayama babbled, his expression betraying the pride he felt for organizing all his thoughts together to share. His hands flailed to either side of him, gesticulating wildly as he blazed through the explanation. Halfway through though, Kouki's brain had effectively overheated.

Geez, and he thought he talked fast sometimes!

"Um, sorry, but-" he opened his mouth meekly, trying to stem the flow, but then some of the initial words ensnared his concentration. Rapid as they were uttered, they digested, forming a small pit in his stomach. 

"Hayama-senpai," Kouki attempted again, this time earning him a listening ear. "Uh, did you say so he'll say that he um, um," his voice cracked, "loves you? He said it to someone else?"

"Yeah! I don't even know the guy!" Hayama nodded, lips afterwards settling into a faint scowl.

Furihata grappled with his now erratic thoughts, trying to devise something encouraging.

Granted, relationship advice was not his forte. He hadn't dated anyone yet, let alone someone as emotionally constipated as Hayama's boyfriend. And normally, this was not his problem, despite the majority of the team having been privy to the ups and downs of their relationship over the past few months. Mibuchi usually handled the consoling.

It was a running gag for some of the players, witnessing the starry-eyed narratives Hayama would spin after their dates, or the occasional spat retold in the locker room. If he was being honest, at times Kouki wondered if they really were dating. Because most of the stories sounded more like a colorful rejection tale than anything else.

He sighed, mourning the fact that he was such a kind person, as all it had gotten him was a laundry list of tasks that definitely weren't in his job description to deal with. Still, he'd try.

"It's probably just something he blurted it out in the heat of the moment because it was a tough win. I don't think he actually meant that he loves that guy. Besides, you're the one he's going out with, right?" His words were superficial, but it was the best he could do with how little information he had to work with.

"Is it?" Hayama responded, punctuated with a "Huh, I guess so!" at his second statement that was curiously upbeat for someone who'd looked murderous less than a minute ago.

"And um, I think he'd probably just like you to play with him? I don't think he expects you to be an expert. Also, I don't think I'm the best guy to ask about video games. Like I said, I don't play that often."

Hayama's jade orbs studied him, and then something seemed to click into place for him.

"Right," he agreed, "Okay then, I'll do this."

Producing his phone from the pocket of his shorts, he opened up a new text message. Mildly curious, Kouki drifted closer to where he could watch the other male typing away.

> **Hayama** : _Miyaji-san!! We r going out soon so say ur free pls! Ur gonna like it, promise! But it's a secret._

> **Miyaji-san <3<3**: _How the hell am I supposed to know if I'm free? And nope. I don't trust you for shit. What is it?_
> 
> **Hayama** :  _Hmm shuld I tell u? Mebbe if you send me a cute pic or sumethin_ (✧∀✧)
> 
> **Miyaji-san <3<3**: _You literally have autocorrect on your damn phone how are you making so many typos...._
> 
> **Hayama** : _Typin fast bc Im stoked say yes to our date pls i wanna see u_
> 
> **Miyaji-san <3<3**: _Fuck off._
> 
> **Hayama** : _Ok I'll tell u, u can send me a pic l8r. but has to b a hot one k? to make up for it._
> 
> **Miyaji-san <3<3**: _REALLY FUCK OFF._
> 
> **Hayama** : _i'm gonna take u 2 see miyu-miyu and buy u all the nerd stuff u want_ ヽ(o´∀`)ﾉ♪♬
> 
> **Miyaji-san <3<3**: _................._
> 
> **Miyaji-san <3<3**: _You probably haven’t even looked up the dates or anything yet._

Hayama's lips stretched into a toothy grin, and his fingers issued the following message slower, each key punched with a confident bounce of his fingers. Kouki watched in abject confusion, unable to process that the maelstrom of bickering he'd witnessed had resulted in a positive outcome. Concerningly, he couldn't tell if the elder had known this was inevitable, or had simply been persistent and it had panned out for him. If it were him, he would have given up long before now, because really, wouldn't a normal person assume their crush wasn't interested and move on?

> **Hayama** : _Next one there is, we’re going!!_ (^_−)☆ 
> 
> **Miyaji-san <3<3**: _Don’t embarrass me._
> 
> **Hayama** : _Leave it to me!! 2 words = backstage passes!!! See u soon_ ♡～('▽^人)

"Is there anything not embarrassing about a grown man attending an idol concert?" a droll voice wondered from behind their shoulders, the speaker hefting a weathered sigh next. "But congrats, Kota-chan."

Kouki immediately snapped up, correcting his posture in a vain attempt to look respectable instead of like he was goofing off. He could be setting up more of the equipment, or getting the water bottles filled, but he'd gotten caught up in Hayama's pace without thinking about it. It couldn't already be time for practice to start; he could get the rest of the work done if he hustled so no one would be inconvenienced, but for the vice-captain to see him involved in shenanigans was frankly, embarrassing.

Following the blond's lead, he circled around to face the newcomer, only to be shot through by another thunderbolt of surprise.

Luck had abandoned him today, he had no doubts on that score. Both the vice-captain _and_ the captain had arrived, and the latter was gracing them with a look of mild disapproval. Or was it befuddlement?

Akashi tilted his head toward his companion, and the raven seemed to decipher the unspoken message instantaneously.

"Kota-chan went to visit his 'friend' this weekend, the uncouth one who used to play small forward for Shutoku," Mibuchi explained, wrinkling his nose. Beside him, the captain seemed to incline his head in understanding, although his response left Furihata questioning if indeed he grasped the insinuation the other was trying to make.

"Ah, I see. It is pleasant to have acquaintances with a wide array of interests."

Nope, it would seem it had escaped his notice entirely. Kouki blinked in the redhead's direction before standing down from the conversation. Mibuchi stifled a giggle, but opted not to enlighten their leader further.

Sensing he was no longer needed by the player who'd sought him out, Kouki was intent on burying himself in the rest of the preparations for the day's practice but his momentum was soon nullified by another request. One that sent his nerves to quivering, uncertain what to expect as an outcome. It could be completely innocuous, as many of their sporadic dialogues were, but his instinct was leaning towards this being different.

"Furihata, if you have a moment, I would like to speak with you."

"Oh, um... sure."

**. . . . .**

They relocated to the hall between the gym and the locker rooms, Akashi guiding him to one of the quieter alcoves along the expanse. After staring down a first-year who'd wandered past them until he sped up into the practice area, the redhead finally unveiled the motive behind his inquiry.

"I am aware of your use of this building after hours."

Kouki staggered on his feet, but the words weren't unkind.

Just nerve-wrackingly matter of fact, and not for the first time did he wish he understood Akashi's mannerisms to where he could translate the sentiment behind them. Observing the captain for a little over a year had provided him an incomplete cognizance of the other's meaning, and so he couldn't fully suss if that meant he was in trouble or not. The way it was stated was verging on a question, as if inviting him to offer restitution, or at the very least, a suitable reason for his behavior.

Predictably, he crumbled under what didn't even qualify as true scrutiny, the guilt that he'd pushed back at doing it sickening him from the inside like bile then, all at the exact worst time. He nodded his head mechanically, beckoning the captain for the rest of his chastisement. Then maybe he could apologize and spend the rest of the afternoon avoiding him until his humiliation wore off. Kouki's eyes drifted downward, and he shuffled his feet, waiting, all too blankly to be told off.

"Furihata."

Akashi's voice, always so piercing, shocked him into meeting an equally fervent gaze, head lifting at the whip-like sound of his name.

"I do not mind if you do. However, I want you to make me feel confident that you are going about it responsibly," he commanded in a rumbling, progressively calmer train of speech. "That you remember to lock up properly when you are finished every time. That you are not jeopardizing yourself by staying out too late when it comes to walking home safely, or skirting your other time constraints."

Kouki's heart stopped and his face morphed into a blank cast, a litany of curses filling the empty space inside his skull.

The captain's subsequent remarks didn't sound like a reproach, but the gravity of the reason why Akashi was giving him the lecture had begun to take root.

He had watched him floundering around by himself, solo because he was too cringe-inducing at the sport to want to drag a friend or one of the team members into his mess. Akashi had probably witnessed countless of his inept practices, had probably tallied up the number of missed baskets or times the ball slipped from his hand when he was trying to get fancy with crossovers or rapid dribbling down court. Kouki could picture him leveling a judgmental stare at the back of his head, the kind he bestowed on the lesser members who slacked off during drills. He was being analyzed all this time and hadn't known it.

Sputtering as he grappled with his tendency to blurt out the first idiotic thing to come to mind when he was embarrassed, Kouki felt the blood surge to his cheeks.

Across from him, the captain's brows furrowed at the change in his demeanor. Then once more, he took their discussion by the reins, corralling him back down to earth.

"Please compose yourself," Akashi interjected. "I already told you that I have no issue with your self-advancement. It is admirable that you put in the additional effort on top of your duties to the club."

"H-how much did you see?"

Well, there went nothing. The urge to hear the whole ugly truth won out over his attempt to suppress it, and depending on the answer he gleaned, he would either heed the guy's order or self-implode. 

"Your... shooting stance, it isn't terribly consistent, I found."

Kouki's panic mounted, cresting over as his breathing accelerated. With dawning horror, new what-ifs surfaced in his reeling brain. What if Akashi had been there that one time he'd tried to copy his ankle break thingy? Or any of the many moves in his personal repertoire that he'd stupidly attempted to emulate? They had all failed. Spectacularly failed. That wasn't even a question, but he hadn't bemoaned it much because he'd been alone with his failure. Was that naive of him? Had he had an audience to all of these misadventures?

Akashi folded his arms over his chest, and for a moment Kouki feared he was growing angry, a suspicion mercifully dispelled by the inquisitive vibe his eyes were sending his way. Twinned crimson orbs assessed him, seemingly weighing whether to cut through Furihata's trepidation and the awkward silence engulfing the two of them to satisfy his curiosity.

"May I ask what you are aiming for? A spot on the team, to improve for friendly outside competition, or-?" he left it there, prompting the brunet to fill the lull with his response.

Kouki's anxiety solidified into a concrete block that lodged heavily in his throat, momentarily stymieing his capacity to speak. The captain had unwittingly hit upon the correct motivation, but there was absolutely no way he would admit to that aloud, because if he did, he'd only wound himself in the process. It was hard enough being manager day by day, knowing he could never measure up to what the other guys were capable of. He didn't need his insecurities paraded in front of him.

Swallowing down his feelings, he eked out a few wholly unconvincing words, praying that Akashi wasn't wise enough to detect the lie.

"N-No, I'm just doing it because it's relaxing. I... I like where I am now."

The captain's gaze raked over him again, and inside Kouki squirmed, but kept his expression neutral as possible outwardly. This was a topic he absolutely didn't want to delve into deeper, and with any mercy, he wouldn't have to. Not with someone who was so far above him in every way, who could never deign to understand his concerns.

"Very well. You may proceed with these sessions of yours. Of course I will expect not to hear of any incidents, or that the building was not secured after you used it. I trust I can count on your diligence in that regard, Furihata?"

Kouki nodded.

"Then we are done here."

Akashi turned back towards the gym, sparing him only the briefest of second glances before striding away to rejoin the earlier-arriving members at practice. When he was out of sight, tension bled from the brunet's shoulders like the hiss of air from pneumatic doors opening up. He swallowed again not once, but twice, trying futilely to rid himself of the catch in his throat. But it didn't seem likely to disappear any time soon.

He wasn't in trouble. But somehow that didn't make him feel any better, any less humiliated.

Why did Akashi have to find out about it? If he could have picked one person he didn't want to know, it would have been the Rakuzan captain. Akashi was flawless not only in basketball but in all aspects of his life. The nicest thing he could do was pity him, but Kouki didn't want his pity. He admired him. You could say that he was his inspiration to get stronger, to finally match up to the words Akashi used to pick the team up when they were uncertain or frustrated.

Kouki wanted to reach that level because of his own honest effort, not because Akashi had lowered himself to lend a charitable hand.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first multi-chapter story I've written in a while so I'm a bit nervous. If you have a moment, let me know what you think? In any case, thank you for reading! :3 This AU has been burning a hole in the back of my mind for far too long.
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://risquetendencies.tumblr.com/)


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